


For Those With a Keen Eye, Gold Gleams Like a Dagger's Point

by Bobsled_Hostage



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobsled_Hostage/pseuds/Bobsled_Hostage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter in the cemetery</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Those With a Keen Eye, Gold Gleams Like a Dagger's Point

Crickets, frogs, bats, the sound of slurred drinking songs from the tavern, the occasional shriek from the sanitarium, the muffled pounding of hammers on heated steel.  Even at night, the hamlet was alive, however dismal it might be.  Alive save for an enclosed plot of land at the base of the hill, the consecrated ground just below the abbey.  The cemetery alone was silent.  Anymore it was lucky if anyone returned from an expedition with their lives, let alone with the remains of the fallen in tow.  Still, the undertaker kept busy, preparing plots in the event that some poor unfortunate expired after returning to the hamlet, or some sentimental soul chose to prioritize recovering the body of a fallen friend over a pack laden with loot.

Trinkets and baubles were the last thing on Hauville’s mind as she scaled the fence around the graveyard.  Despite her trade, the grave robber had no intention of disinterring the newly dead, the last foray into the weald had left her with more than enough to keep her in ale and coin for the foreseeable future.  Unfortunately on her return she had been dismayed to learn that the brothel keeper, fed up with constant complaints from the staff, had barred her from the establishment, leaving her frustrated and forcing her to seek relief elsewhere.  That was what drove her out into the cold for a midnight stroll in the graveyard.

The grave robber tilted her hat back to glance up at the moon, a waning gibbous that had already begun to swim and distort. She’d taken a pull from one of the several flasks under her coat, not bothering to double check which one, and the effects on her vision indicated it was one of her more potent mixes.  She watched as the shadows of the tombstones began to shift and twist in the pale moonlight, pulling her coat close around her and shivering with delight.  The air was almost electric, still aside from the occasional breeze brushing between her bare legs.  Hauville padded silently through the rapidly distorting boneyard, watching the inscriptions on the tombstones go liquid and seep to the ground, amorphous entities peeking out behind every object, rapidly receding when she tried to focus on them.  She paused, leaning against the shattered remains of the gnarled ash at the center of the cemetery, and was downing the remainder of the mind altering elixir when she spotted a shape that was most certainly no hallucination, but the highwayman Dismas.

The footpad was crouched in front of one of the open graves, perhaps wondering who might eventually occupy it, perhaps merely attempting to retrieve some trinket he’d carelessly dropped into the yawning, seven foot hole.  The grave robber had intended to merely pleasure herself behind one of the headstones, but with the unwitting highwayman kneeling with his back to her, she had an altogether different idea about how to spend the night.  No telling how long he’d idle there before rising to leave, better to act now.  Stealing up behind the rogue, taking care not to make a sound, Hauville brought herself within arm’s length of her unsuspecting prey, and with a sudden foot to the back, toppled him into the grave.

With a grin she bent at the waist to peer down the pit, into the barrel of Dismas’ raised flintlock.  Realizing it was her and not a thug come to fillet him, he returned the piece to his belt, cursing and demanding to know if she’d taken leave of her senses.  His coarse words turned to a shout of surprise when the grave robber dropped in on top of him, pinning the smaller man to the ground.  Licking her lips, she straddled him, grinning again when the road agent’s icy hand clasped over her bare breast in an attempt to push her off, chuckling at the startled look on his face as he realized she was naked aside from her coat, boots and hat.  Positioned as she was with his stiffening prick teasing her lips through his breeches, her tits were just about level with his face.  She hissed with delight when he obligingly bit one, reaching with one of her long arms to tug his trousers down.  No sooner had the miscreant grabbed hold of the highwayman’s cock to aim it than he bucked his hips and pressed it in, skewering her like a duelist’s lunge would a cultist.

His dick was shorter than expected but pleasantly fat, like a short, wide knife, and Hauville grunted in satisfaction as her walls stretched around it.  She bent her head low and clenched her teeth when he wrapped his arms around her waist and began to bounce her on his cock.  Fucking in an open grave was a favorite of hers.  She closed her eyes and imagined she was lying with a corpse, his penis stiff with rigor instead of lust, mouth yawning open to sink decaying teeth into her neck, tearing out a chunk of her throat as he climaxed.  She saw herself buried and rotting under seven feet of earth, maggots burrowing in her skin, chewing her eyes.  Her gold teeth melting and running sizzling out of her mouth as her body burst into flames in a crematorium.  Expiring in the weald to rise again as a shambling fungal zombie, veins choked with mycelium and fruiting bodies bursting forth from every orifice.  Sinking down, down, down in the ocean, dragged by chains and tentacles and webbed hands, her bones picked over in the lightless depths by a host of squirming, slithering things.  Her head spun, fantasy mated to reality.  With a scream she came violently, terrible vistas of emptiness rolling outward and onward in her mind’s eye, horror without end.  

The orgasm outlasted the visions, she found herself splayed out and shivering on top of Dismas, who was furiously masturbating to completion.  He spent himself on her bare ass with a grunt.  She laid there, listening to his breathing and the sounds of night, inhaling the rich scent of grave dirt and her own fecund musk. He squirmed and grumbled she was crushing him, which she ignored until he punched her in the ribs, persuading her to push herself to her feet.

Her whole body felt warm and soft and useless, but she was still more than agile enough to jump and pull herself upward and out of the grave.  The highwayman shouted behind her and, turning around, she realized he was too short to climb out on his own.  She spent the next two minutes or so bent double with laughter, while Dismas grumbled and cursed under his breath.

Hauville knelt and reached down to offer him a hand.  He surprised her by yanking downward on her arm, using his full weight to tip her into the hole on top of him.  This time he was ready, rolling her off him and mounting her roughly.  No sooner had she realized his intentions then she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her for another round.

**Author's Note:**

> started this one for /vg/ but by the time I finished it /dadg/ was gone


End file.
